In The Days After
by Aurelius31
Summary: The Reds and Blues have decided to settle down on Chorus in the aftermath of the Great War. This story follows how they've adjusted to being more than simulation troopers. Agent Washington is having a difficult time living in peace. New enemies emerge. New alliances are found. There are no pairing rules.
1. In the Parking Lot

**I do not own Red vs. Blue.**

"Wash!" said Tucker.

Washington bolted upright from his bed. The once special agent swung his feet to the floor. Sweat clung to his chest and neck. A bead rolled unchecked down his temple. Wash labored to heave air into his lungs. The Freelancer's eyes darted all over the room. Finally, they landed on Tucker.

His eyebrows furrowed as if he was confused to see the man.

"You were having a nightmare, man," he said. Washington nodded. Yes, another one. He drug a sweaty palm over his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would remove the images from his mind.

"You need to see someone," said Tucker. Whenever Lavernius Tucker sounded serious, things did not bode well. Washington nodded again.

Wash noticed that Tucker remained in the doorway. The last nightmare the private had tried to shake him awake. That resulted in Wash gripping Tucker in neck hold so brutal, Tucker had screamed for his life as soon as he could get a breath. It took Caboose to lock Wash in a bear hug so fierce that Wash had dangled in the air for a full minute before he realized what was happening.

Caboose sat him on the bed as Tucker wheezed on the floor. He wore the same look of concern then.

"Not going to hurt you Private," he said.

"I know man. But I if I'm going to be in a bedroom with anybody that's breathing hard and sweating, it's going to be a chick."

Washington involuntarily smiled and rolled his eyes at the same time.

"TUCKER," yelled Caboose. "Grif is on the phone. He wants us to come to the bar tonight. We are going to find a nice lady for Simmons…again!"

"I'm in," Tucker called. "They so need my help. You in Wash?"

Washington let his head hang in between his shoulders. The therapeutic effect of mind numbing alcohol did have its allure.

Wash nodded for the third time.

Wash decided to drive his sports utility vehicle. It was something of a tank, and as a long as Caboose wasn't speaking to it, he gave him a sense of comfort. Tucker had heartily approved of its seven passenger capacity in case some ladies wanted to come home with them. Washington had parked it in the garage with very little fanfare the first day he brought it home.

It was the best vehicle for Chorus' terrain, in a civilian context.

Caboose had mentioned that several bodies could fit in the trunk space. He was delighted that there could be "road activities" and games in the back. Tucker chimed in with his trade mark Bow Chicka Bow Wow. Caboose then dubbed the car as Shelly, since it reminded him of their tank, Shelia from Blood Gulch. Washington promptly forbade Caboose from going near it without him.

* * *

Standing in a circle were Grif, Carolina, and Donut talking with his hands. Doc came strolling out with a young lady who appeared to be very, very happy. She looked so happy, her grin was creeping Wash out. Simmons was leaning against an SUV similar to his own with his face in his hands.

Tucker began to shake his head. Caboose bounced up and down. "Do you think Carolina has Church with her?"

"Maybe Caboose, but tonight is all about ass. Don't forget," said Tucker.

"Oh Lord," said Wash. He parked and slid out the car. The group gave a hearty greeting. Wash smiled at the sight of Carolina in her civvies. Skinny jeans and T-shirt. Her rusty red hair was pulled into a high bun, leaving heaving her long neck exposed.

Wash put a hand out cupped her neck from behind. She was soft as suspected. He quickly pretended to choke her out so he wouldn't have to endure another round of I-only-love-you-as-a-brother-Wash. Carolina laughed and playfully landed a mock combo to his face.

"So, how is the operation," Wash said. "Where is Sarge?"

"Oh, he isn't coming. His wife just had babies! He said I could come and play with them when they were not so fragile!"

"Didn't his wife deliver months ago?" said Grif. "Yes!" said Doc. "Three healthy babies. Two girls and one boy," said Doc.

"So he became a parent, and became fucking boring." said Tucker.

"You're a parent," said Simmons."Yeah, but I me, so I can't be fucking boring, dude," Tucker retorted.

"Yes, in four weeks, he is going to have a big party! We are all invited to meet his babies!" said Caboose.

"Aw man, Sarge used to pull a lot of tail with his old man swag," said Tucker. "Now, I have to rely on Caboose for a wingman."

"Don't worry Tucker, Franklin Donut knows how to get tail," said Donut. He was a little wobbly on his feet, but still managed to appear well put together. He had already been to the bar. That night he wore a form fitting T-shirt with loose fitting jeans taking care to coordinate his shoes with color of the stiches.

"I dressed Simmons for tonight," he said. Wash and Tucker exchanged confused glances clearly thinking the same thing. "Doesn't he look strapping?"

Exasperated, Simmons glared at Donut. "Donut please! Everyone got it! You don't have to elaborate." Simmons' normally unruly hair and facial hair had been manicured by an expert hand. Because it was normally hiding his face, Donut cut it low around the sides combed it back with some product.

His bright brown eyes could actually be seen since he was forced to wear his contacts.

"I certainly think so," said Carolina. She walked over to Simmons and looped her arm in his in his. Washington shot up an eyebrow.

"Oh this is a classic tactic," said Tucker. "Guy walks in with a hot girl - other chicks try to steal him to prove their own hotness." Carolina smiled and nodded. "Pretty much," said Carolina.

"Okay so here's the game plan," said. We are all going to walk in neutrally, but Carolina and Simmons will stay close to each other for approximately an hour. Let other bitches wonder what the hell is going on. Then, Carolina dips and then the whores come swarm his dick."

"Can we play another party game after this?" said Caboose. "Hopefully there will be many games Caboose," said Grif. "Women are oddly attracted to your adorable moronic ways so yeah."

"Well," said the happy woman under Doc's arm. "I would definitely blow him in the bathroom."

"Whhhooooooaaaaaa," said everyone.

"Okay, we're done here," said Wash. He loped across the parking lot without them, eager to get to the bar and drink his therapy.


	2. At the Bar

**I do not own Red vs. Blue.  
**

Apparently, a female league of Grifball players had taken over the bar. Wash didn't mind. There was still plenty of alcohol to be had. He expertly maneuvered the through the crowd. A few ladies gave him a squeeze. He didn't mind that either. Maybe he would squeeze them back later. Right now, he needed to drink. An open stool beckoned to him. He couldn't believe it was there. He plopped himself at the bar.

He shrugged his shoulders. He was going to have to get loose for this.

"Speak of the goddamned devil," said a familiar voice. A chill went up his back. The wave of familiarity struck him so hard he felt drunk already. He glared into the eyes of the bartender. Her huge hazel eyes glared back into his. He whispered, barely audible to anybody.

"Four Seven Niner," said Wash. He was smiling. Wash mounted the bar and pulled the woman into a tight embrace. Shouts of celebration rose up from all around them as the atmosphere was already full of mirth.

"He's going to do her on the bar, I think," shouted someone.

479er clapped Wash on his back. He released her. Plopping back into his seat he tried his best not grin like a goofy nut at her. He failed. He could feel a lot of eyes on them. He hoped secretly that he hadn't embarrassed her.

"Back to your merry making people," shouted 479er. "An old friend that's all." Wash ducked his head and laughed.

"Sorry, it's just, I wondered about you. I never knew. No one gave me any information. I'm just –"

"It's alright, hero. What are you drinking?" Wash cocked his head. Those eagle eyes bored into him waiting for an answer. The moment wasn't lost on him. She didn't want him talking about their old life and their old designations. 'Hero'. That word hung on him. She had never called him 'hero' before.

"Well barkeep, I need something strong."

She nodded. She made him a concoction that she ultimately lit on fire. He studied her expert hands and she dipped bottles, flipping them this way and that. It was quite the show. He could tell she was enjoying herself. Wash noticed the little differences. Her jet black hair had been allowed to grow into a loose bob. He liked the way framed her face. Those eagle eyes landed on him. "You're staring David." First names. "Well, Laura, it seems like it's been forever. I can't believe my eyes."

"Believe them," she said.

She slid the drink to him. He looked into it. By the time he looked up she was gone making other drinks. He nursed the brew. It was indeed a strong drink. He meant to pound it, but he was thoroughly perplexed. Curiosity wouldn't let him enjoy the mind numbing effects.

"Laura, was just talking about her old friends," said the woman sitting next to him. The velvet voice had such a Zen quality. It was a voice one rarely heard in such venues.

Sitting primly upon the stool beside him was a pair of heels. Those heels were sheathed on a tiny foot with red coated toes. Connected to those fancy feet were delicate sandalwood colored calves that looked as if they enrobed in silk. Wash could tell that the sheen wasn't hosiery. He wondered what kind of oil coated her skin. Maybe it was Moroccan, maybe it was baby oil.

Those calves were lovely indeed. Connected to those lovely calves were sumptuous thighs. Curvy and lovely, her thighs were toned. His eyes scanned along those lovely lines wishing he could see beneath the white fabric that covered their upper half. He wondered idly the color of her intimates. His eyes kept tracking to waist he could tell was flat. Wash licked the liquor off of his lips. His eyes fell on a pair of obscenely round pair of breasts that were tastefully covered by the vigilant fabric.

His eyes finally fell upon an angular jaw. Her lips had pursed into tiny smile. Her eyes were a bright brown-green hue that seemed to be remarkably familiar.

"Have we met?"

The brief grin sparked across her face for a few seconds. Her eyes fell back on her own glass. She stared for a moment into the gold liquid, wondering how to answer.

"No, not officially." Wash tilted his head at that.

She stuck out her hand, "I'm Belquin Price. Counselor Andre Price was my brother."

Wash took her hand in his. He was about to shake it, but decided to turn it over. He bent slightly to brush his lips slightly over the back of her hand. He locked eyes with her. There was no point in dodging what was coming.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I'm somewhat responsible for his death." She stared at him. She made no move to pull her hand away. Wash watched her blink quickly a few times. She gently slid her hand out of his and reached for her drink. A deep auburn forelock nearly spiraled in to her glass. She tucked it quickly behind her ear. She drank a deep long gulp. She pushed the back of her other hand against her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut as the burn subsided. Wash found the entire site mesmerizing and disturbing all at once.

What were they doing here? Why would she come to Chorus? Revenge?

"Damn Wash, what did you do?"

Flabbergasted he stammered over his words. What had he been trying to do with that little chivalrous move? Hmmm? _"Sorry, I killed your brother. However, I'm not such a bad guy?"_

"Nothing," said Belquin. She finished her drink. "Laura, I said I was all cried out over Andre. Now, I'm coming apart at the seams." 479er poured another two fingers. She eyed Wash.

"What brings you to Chorus, _Laura_?" said Wash. "I bought a bar. Dream job. Belquin came here to claim her brother's remains. We both sponsor the Grifball Girls. Since the League chose New Armonia for the Tournament this year, it seemed liked fate to come."

It didn't seem like a lie. He watched Belquin wipe her face with an old fashioned hander kerchief.

"Well, Vanessa Kimball and I are friends. We can go tomorrow into the city if you'd like." She blinked those big eyes at him.

"I wasn't expecting this," she said. She seemed to be taking him all in. Wash didn't look away. He couldn't. He would have loved the opportunity to get his hands on Andre Price personally but Wash had learned to let things go. Besides, he already decided that she was damned beautiful and would pursue whatever odds he had at kissing other parts of her.

His brain was just on that flight path. Target locked. It had been too long. His hands wouldn't suffice, not tonight.

"Who is this?"

Lavernius Tucker slid himself between Wash and Belquin.

"Belquin Price," said Wash into Tucker's back. "This is Private Lavernius Tucker, one of the former simulation troopers of Project Freelancer, Sanghelli Ambassador and my roommate. Tucker, this is Belquin Price. Belquin is Counselor Price's younger sister."

"Hey Tuck!" said 479er. "Laura!" 479er shoved five or six beers into Tucker's hands.

"I see you two know each other," said Wash. The pair nodded at him. Tucker turned back to Belquin. "Don't hurt my boy, he's fragile." Wash's jaw dropped. Belquin giggled into her hand as Tucker gave Wash a look over his shoulder. Upon seeing the horrified look on his face, Tucker tsked.

"Wash, come on. Everybody just saw so those fireworks between you two just now." Wash's eyes scanned the room. The entire crew had shoved multiple tables together and were seating directly in the middle of the floor with a clear view of the bar. Strategic.

"I'm sure that's a fire hazard," said Laura. "I'm moving you guys to the dancehall side, Tucker."

"Sure thing, sweet thing!"

Tucker bopped away from the bar.

"Yeah, Tucker came by on Kimball's orders. Heard I was recently released from jail and connected to defunct military program we all know and love. We sat here and drank. Got to know me. Knows I'm starting over her, ya know. He got my paper work pushed through. Even had the guys come down and help me set this place up. Been here for a few months."

"Where have I been?" said Wash.

"Tucker said you've become a hell of drill sergeant. Says Kimball wants to promote you to General, but you won't let her. Says you're still putting Washington on everything."

Washington cast a glance at Belquin. She was staring into her drink. He liked that she was trying to give them some privacy. He found it cute.

Carolina bounced in between them. "Round two, LC."

"You got it Carolina," said 479er.

"Quin," said Carolina. Wash watched as the two women embraced warmly. An eyebrow shot up.

"You finally met Wash." Said Carolina. "Move your men to the Dancehall side please. If there's a fire they've doomed us all," said 479er.

"Roger that," said Carolina. Carolina barked her orders and they all began to move and shuffle.

"So, Carolina still going by Carolina is normal?"

479er glared at him. "We all move on when we're ready Wash. Just because she's still going by Carolina, doesn't mean she hasn't. I brought Belquin here a month ago because she could use some good people. She's been here for nearly three weeks and doesn't know anybody but me and Carolina."

Wash wondered absently what Tucker had told her. That chaffed at him a little. Wash studied the younger woman. He wondered what could've brought her all the way to Chorus.

"It's true. I'm...I'm a bit of a shut in," said Belquin. "Reading adventure stories is about as much adventure as I get these days." Reading his thoughts, 479er slapped her hand on the table. Belquin jumped. "Sorry, kiddo," she said.

"Wash, she came to me in jail. She was looking for anyone that knew of her brother's where abouts, okay. We stayed in touch. Satisfied?"

Wash finished his drink. He nodded. He was not entirely satisfied but he was hoping his paranoia would subside.

"You two, go dance, now. These are prime seats. They may as go to paying customers."

"I can't do that, Four-, Laura," said Wash. He reached for his credit card.

"Your money isn't good here Ace," she said.

Wash stared at her for moment, "Thank you, Laura. I'm glad I got to see you."

Without a word, he turned her back to fill more orders. Belquin was staring at 479er's back. She was clearly surprised that the woman had dismissed her with him, like they were together. He wouldn't waste opportunity. He was on a mission after all. He placed his hand gently over hers.

"I don't bite," he said. Her was smile was slow. "Not unless you want."

She giggled. She covered her mouth to contain them. The utter shock was just what he was going for. There need not be any bad blood between them. Objective completion was looking good.

Wash navigated through the crowd to the dancefloor.


	3. On the Dancefloor

**I do not own Red vs. Blue. This chapter, things take a more serious turn. Wash knows all good things aren't completely good. He's right.**

Wash moved in rhythm. The music wasn't bad. The absence of instruments didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It was a variety of sounds. He enjoyed that. He relished how soft her body was. The way she responded to him was genuine. He could tell she was slowly letting herself get comfortable with him. When a slow shot through the speakers, she stepped into his embrace. Yes, he thought, he liked being embraced.

A Latin tune came on. Dexter Grif asked Belquin to dance. And Holy cow, he knew how to Salsa. They moved around the floor good naturedly. The younger man was carefully to keep his body apart from hers. She knew a few steps too. Wash watched as Quin's face was stony at first, but eventually it back to smiling again. They knew each other. That occurred to him, but Wash noticed it didn't bother him. Carolina popped into his field of vision.

She guided him out to the flow and taught him some moves. He picked up quickly as enjoying listening to Carolina's praise. She was torn away from him however. Dexter Grif, husky though nimble, seized her in his grip and spun her away. Wash was stunned at how adeptly Grif guided Carolina around the floor. He slid a hand down to the small of Carolina's back. He spun her around and dipped her low. Carolina let out a little "whew" when he launched her back up. Grif gave Washington a smug smile. "Jealous?" said Grif.

In this light, his eyes looked almost black, like his jet black wavy hair secured into a pony tail. The diamond stud in his right ear gleamed in the light. All against UNSC regulation, but Wash pushed the thought away. That would be for another time.

Wash guided Quin around the floor. Quin was smiling her lovely smile as she came into step. Wash not only dipped her, but did a professional level lift throwing her leg around his waist before he tilted her backward. Her lovely breasts shifted, peaking out at him. Soon, he thought. The drink 479er made for him was expertly crafted. He was nicely buzzed. Loose.

He shot a brow up and looked at Grif and Carolina. The gauntlet had been thrown. Grif put his hands on his hips. The Hawaiian gestured to Simmons. At that moment, a woman in thick rimmed glasses was chatting him up. He looked perplexed for a moment. Held up a finger to the woman and came over.

Grif spoke a few words to him. Simmons gripped Carolina's waist and easily took a few steps. They fell into tempo quickly. They promptly shocked the hell out of Wash when the cyborg lifted the rubenesque woman who instinctively lifted her leg to his shoulder in a very suggestive split. Simmons did a very flashy spin and caught Carolina's calf and guided her down to the floor.

There was applause.

"Now what, sucker!" said Grif. "You didn't even do it," said Wash. "I do all of Grif's hard work. It's my lot in life," said Simmons. "Hard work," said Carolina putting her hands her hips. Wash immediately went to grab his partner who raised her hands.

"I'm not that flexible! You guys win!" Belquin was laughing at the trio. She made no move for Wash to take his hands off her so he didn't.

Carolina's competitive streak said "Damn right."

"Donut talked us all into taking his salsa class," said Simmons. He had to yell slightly but Wash understood. "That sounds like fun," shouted Quin. "It is, you should come," said Simmons.

Wash marked how lovely she looked under the dim lights. Her white dress made her glow like some kind of beacon. Wash liked that. Even if she was Andrea' Price's kin, she made him feel good. Endorphins at attention. Wash hoped other parts of him would be at attention soon.

In a bizarre moment, Wash watched as Grif and Carolina exchanged some kind of a look. They were staring at each other with expressions only they could read. She had done that with York often. Private communication. "What was that?" said Wash. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. The look on Carolina's face made him probe further. "Are you two…together?"

Simmons moved to the other side of Carolina. The two men slid a single respective arm around her waist. She slung her arms around each of their necks. "Wash it's time I told you."

"Oh my god," said Wash. "We _are_ together," said Grif. "We," said Simmons, "Are the best Amateur Salsa Team of New Armonia." "Beat out thirty-five teams," said Carolina quite proudly. The woman was a born competitor. He didn't know why he felt relief. He was sure Carolina would wind up with someone besides him. He didn't know why he always felt like he had to brace himself.

"Wash," said Carolina. "Vanessa put you over training the Chorus military. Well, she put me over the civil police force trainees. She asked the Reds to help. Turns out, these are quite the detectives."

"And dance partners," said Grif. Where had Wash been? "So she put the Blues with me and Sarge?" "Right," said Simmons. "Sarge didn't want to train civilians. He likes the freedom to shoot at his subordinates." Wash just noticed Dick Simmons facial hair. The man had aged and was talking with women.

Wash smiled, once again involuntarily. The Hawaiian, Private Dexter Grif was still husky. Although he had tried to run Wash over with a warthog once, Wash had found him to be an incredibly loyal person. He

"They also meet occasionally for group sex," shouted Tucker. Grif and Simmons glared at him. "Well, they wish they did." Wash shook his head. He turned to Quin. Instead of horrified she was smiley sweetly. Wash leaned down and put his mouth to her ear. He didn't want to shout.

"Bathroom," he said. She nodded. He cast a glance at his…friends. He realized it with a newness he hadn't felt before. They were being social. They were friends. Grif motioned that he was going to follow. Simmons waved over Tucker and Caboose. Wash watched a moment of conspiracy. Then the men guided Wash to the bathroom.

* * *

They urinated with the minimum grunts that men gave when they urinated in close quarters.

After they had joined each other at the sinks, Tucker cleared his throat.

"Okay, we need to discuss condom supply," said Tucker. "I've got my own," chimed Simmons. "And by default mine too," said Grif. "Have we met anyone that's a go Simmons?"

"The two blondes are confirmed," said Simmons. "I don't know," said Grif. "Any backups?" Simmons shook his head. "Tucker and Caboose, oddly, have secured the entire starting lineup of A Grifball Girls' league offensive line."

"Hey, what are you, Caboose, and Doc going to do with five chicks? Blue Team is a bunch of greedy fucks!" Grif called down to Tucker. A part of Wash couldn't believe this conversation was being had. Yet another part of him felt a sense of familiarity. He felt good, like he once had aboard _The Mother of Invention_.

"One of those ladies, his mine," said Donut. For a moment the only sound that permeated the room was the sound of Grif's stream. A civilian walked in and gasped at the line up at the urinal.

"Hey! You're the Reds and Blues," he exclaimed. "Are we so recognizable?" asked Tucker.

The man looked at his feet. "Well, you guys are kinda. When you're standing next to each other like that…and you're kinda color coded?" The men studied each other for a few seconds. "Wow, we are lame," said Tucker. "And fashionable," said Donut.

The men washed and dried their hands in silence. Wash understood it. York and been given to wearing gold T-shirts. North favored a purple sweatshirt when he roamed the halls. Carolina was such a Tar Heels fan her armor color was a given. Then, he was in love with his gray black palette.

"Guys there's a fight", said Doc. "So," said Grif. "Yeah, Doc, this is a bar, so the probability of a fight breaking out is very high," said Simmons.

Doc shook his head. "It's Carolina!" Doc disappeared around the corner. Wash was right behind him. The others followed. Wash geared up his mental processes ready to pounce on someone. It was just as well, it had been a while since he had beat up anything besides a bag. He was accustomed to fighting. It was familiar. But just like that, it was over. Carolina had thrown a poor bastard into a nearby pool table and had proceeded dancing as if nothing had happened.

Quin was looking slightly concerned. 479er had even abandoned the bar. She and a worker peeled the guy off the pool table and ushered him to a stool. Wash could hear her lecturing.

"No means no"….and…."I'll get you a drink…."

The man was nodded sheepishly. Wash approached the pair wondering just what had happened. "Hey man, no need to beat me up if that's your girl." Wash laughed. "She doesn't need me to do that. What happened?" The guy shrugged. "Nothing, I was just-just being dick…to the short one." Being thrown, easily thrown, had made the man see the light. The light was a good thing, because Wash, Caboose, and Tucker never traveled anywhere without their weapons of choice.

Washington suddenly felt a hand pushing into his chest. He looked down. 479er was pushing him. He had taken a few steps towards the man. When had he done that?

"Wash, dude, you can't kill anyone tonight. Let's go," said Tucker.

Wash approached Belquin and Carolina. "You boys ready to go the next bar? LC is kicking us out," said Carolina. "Why do you keep calling her LC?" said Wash. "Her name is Laura Cole," said Carolina. She looked at him like he was supposed to know that. Should he have known that?

Wash nodded. "That makes sense." "Lame," said Grif. "Tucker go!" "Hey Belquin, Wash has an awesome massive house overlooking a cliff on the side of a mountain."

"Yes, Belquin," chimed Caboose. "The big Grifball ladies are coming. You should come too!"

"Slumber party!" shouted Donut. Belquin looked up at Carolina who gave her an reassuring smile. Wash thought that cute. Belquin wouldn't want to come without Carolina being there. He meant to aske when they met, but he thought that didn't matter. The Two Blondes sauntered up and put a drink in Grif and Simmons hands respectively. Carolina snatched them both and pounded them back. "Not it for DD," she said. "Shotgun," Grif yelled. "Fuck," said Simmons. Grif handed Simmons the keys.

Wash frowned. "I need to make a grocery stop. I don't have enough food for Grif let alone all of you ladies."

"We'll order in," said one of the ladies. "No one delivers up there since Caboose kept getting excited to see delivery guys and blowing them off the road."

"No casualties," Caboose pointed out.

"How did he keep getting rifles, Tucker?" said Wash. He wanted to ream the younger private in earnest, but he couldn't keep the mirth out of his voice. They all exited the bar. Wash felt like this night was going really well. He could help but feel that something was going to go terribly wrong.

* * *

Wash guided Belquin to the passenger side of his SUV. She seemed delightfully amused by the entire lot of them.

"Where are the two blondes?" she said looking around. Wash climbed into the driver's side. He shrugged. He didn't like being this far away from her body. She was like a warm blanket he had put on for the evening. Tucker and Caboose climbed in went all the way to the back row.

"This is going to be a tight fit," said Caboose.

"Bow Chicka Bow Wow!"

Just as Wash was about to admonish Tucker, five women piled into Wash's truck. One of them lay across Tucker and Caboose's laps. Her feet held by her teammate. They all fit. Wash wasn't too worried. An RPG would have to hit them to roll his beast over. Dexter Grif owned a similar model. Wash watched as Carolina, Grif and Simmons corralled Donut, Doc, and the smiling lady to his truck. Grif let the lady ride shotgun as he had also a semblance of etiquette.

"They have a room for one more passenger in the other truck, miss…." Wash called back to third row. A woman with dark hair and big wide eyes popped into view. Wash found that pair of eyes alarmingly sexy, and slightly subdued by alcohol.

"It's Phoebe Chen, and I'm good." She disappeared behind the seat again. Wash cleared his throat. "Private Lavernius Tucker-"

"It's Captain now, dude, come on," said Tucker. It was true. Tucker had tolerated Washington's arrested thoughts. But at present he was in fact a Captain and the ladies had been told that too. "Fine, _Captain_ Lavernius Tucker!" "What!"

"There is to be no sex, of any kind, in this vehicle." There was a very large round of, _AWWWWWWWWWWWW._ At that, Phoebe Chen popped up. "Sorry man orders are orders." Tucker was visibly distraught. "I hate you, Wash."

"Patience Tucker," said Wash. Phoebe maneuvered her body out of the truck and ran over to Grif's. She hopped in. She was greeted by Donut who looked very eager to have Phoebe next to him. "Okay, so all these years, I thought Donut was gay…" Tucker said still glaring at the back of Wash's head. "Maybe he's bi? I don't want to think about it Tucker. We're leaving." Wash scanned the area looking for the two blondes. They had literally disappeared.

His truck hummed to life.

He guided into the dark night of Chorus. He tried his best to shake paranoia hanging over him. He looked over to the woman on his right. He caught her staring at him. She looked away quickly. Washington frowned. Why couldn't he shake the feeling, that he'd just been set up?


	4. At the Slumberparty

**I do not own Red vs. Blue.**

The grocery store had been an adventure all its own.

The familiarity that Belquin had with Carolina had begun to make him feel uneasy. He recalled that Tucker had inquired about her identity, but didn't hang around to ask more question. It was like he was just confirming that she was, in fact, Belquin Price. 479er, Laura Cole, had known her too. Grif had certainly known her enough to have a conversation. Simmons had even invited her to one of Donut's us dance classes. Belquin didn't bother ask who Franklin Donut was. She thought it sounded fun. It dawned on him in a wave of horror. Classic tactic. "…. _finding a girl for Simmons…again."_

Had she not been there, perched on the stool waiting for him? Had 479er, Laura Cole, not dismissed them both, _together_? _Speak of the goddamn devil…._

So, Simmons had been a red herring, huh?

When he had heard it, just after waking up, it had been believable. The idea that Simmons needed help finding a girl was the last thing Wash had known about the man. How much time had gone since he spent time with them? But his eyes didn't deceive him tonight. Simmons probably hadn't been groomed by Donut, although they made a show of that. He'd been groomed by someone, but it had probably been a woman, a girlfriend. Simmons had managed to "confirm" not one, but two, hot girls into coming home with him. Even though they had disappeared, the man was confident enough to do it.

No, this had been a blind date _for him._

A conspiracy for the ages, he would have never left the house if the prospect of booze had not lured him out. The house had been mysteriously empty of booze for the last week. While he wasn't an alcoholic, He practiced keeping his own place stocked to _avoid_ the bar scene.

Damn. He fell into so easily didn't he? _"He even set up the encounter, just like the profile said."_ South's ghost hovered in his thoughts. Was he so predictable? He couldn't say that he was upset in this case.

Belquin and Carolina walked ahead of him. Chatting like two regular girls, they made a sight that stirred his loins. The night was moving on and he did have to go to work in the morning. Yet, here they were, buying a huge amount of protein for breakfast. He carried a few items in his arms. He casually dropped the items in the basket and kept walking.

* * *

He found the Reds and Blues, in the dairy aisle examining yogurt.

"Oh hey, there he is," said Grif. "Which is better Wash?" said Caboose. "Greek yogurt or the fruity stuff?" Wash considered it. "The girls will probably want the Greek Yogurt for the protein. The fruity stuff is watery. We have plenty of fruit at the house they can eat with it." Wash watched as the men grabbed at the various varieties of Greek yogurt. Just then, the Ballers came around the aisle with a cart full of meat. "Meat detail done," said the Baller known as Talitha. Her copper coils looked like you jump into them and spring right back. Grif looked at cart. "Nice," he said. They chucked the yogurt in the meat. The Reds and Blues then separated. The Reds went off to get other bulk breakfast items. Tucker and Caboose remained with their own cart for the remaining dairy items. He, Carolina and Belquin were on condiment detail, but he wouldn't wait to confront Tucker and Caboose later.

"Captain Tucker, Captain Caboose," said Wash. The pair of men looked at him with a little bit of trepidation. Wash stuck out his hand to Caboose because Tucker's hands were full of eggs. Caboose took it. They shook hands firmly.

"Thank you gentlemen," he said. "Well, you're quite welcome," said Caboose. "For what?" he said later.

"For setting up this blind date," said Wash. Tucker rolled his eyes. "Your paranoia never fails Wash." "So, I'm right," said Wash.

Tucker nodded. "All you do is work and have nightmares." Tucker gently sat the eggs in the basket. He sent Caboose to get real cheese from the deli since it was far more durable than eggs. After doing a quick inventory of the egg's condition, the younger man looked at him. "Belquin has a back story, yeah. I only met her tonight. She's hot, not crazy, and apparently, for whatever reason, into you."

Wash pondered that. Who knew her back story? Would it matter? "You knew of her?" Tucker nodded again moving him to the side to reach for milk.

"Yeah, Grif and Carolina met her before anyone. When they described her to me, I figured it was a worth a shot. She seemed like the perfect girl for you." Wash wondered that. Wash said nothing. He and Tucker and grown close enough for them to read each other's eyes.

"You're a pair of people that need fresh starts," said Tucker.

"I already had that. I got a promotion, a house…" said Wash. Tucker's face screwed up. He swallowed his words.

His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "You cry in your sleep Wash. I know you think its sweat, but those are tears. One day, Caboose caught you staring at your pistol. It scared him so bad. He sneaks into your room and takes it out of bureau every night. We know you check it before you go to sleep so we put it back right after dinner, but it's not loaded." Wash looked horrified.

"What if there's an intruder?" said Wash in an attempt to redirect.

Had all this really happened? Was he really like this. "Wash, you keep a Mantis in your shed." Oh god, they were right. Wash plopped down on the edge of the refrigeration unit. There were packages of processed cheese beneath his ass. He didn't like the cooling effect it had on his nether regions, but he couldn't help it. He felt so heavy.

"I _am_ going to see someone Tucker," said Wash. "Promise?" said Tucker. Wash nodded.

The two men exchanged looked at each other. Wash was about to thank the younger man again, but a crash resounded through the store.

"Shit!" That was Carolina. "We'd better go," said Wash. "Yeah," said Tucker.

* * *

They made it to his house without further incident. In an attempt to be chivalrous, Wash told the ladies to go make their selves comfortable while the men hauled groceries. To Wash's surprise Grif's trunk space was filled mostly with more alcohol and a very large variety of condoms. At least we are prepared, he thought.

He was glad that the women all found plenty of space on his large sectional. "I didn't know you were loaded Wash," said Doc. The medic spoke with him in a hushed whisper. "Well, the UNSC found that I was owed my salary from the years in the project, plus the damages to my…" he cleared his throat, "mental health." The Reds and Blues had also been paid handsomely.

Yet, it had actually been the professional journals of Andre Price that accounted just how much he had been damaged. Perhaps it had all just been a public relations stunt, but they had hailed him as a hero, promoted, and paid him to stay quiet. At least that's how he saw it. He took the money and built a secure facility where he could live, or at least try to in peace.

Wash wondered, if that's why 479er had been released.

Here in the days after the smoke cleared, he supposed everyone had been trying to find a life.

"The girls are asking about movies," said Caboose. "I put in a rom com." "No," cried Grif. The Hawaiian was chewing on a snack cake and taking a swig of a beer.

Simmons grumbled. "You could at least help put the groceries away before you start eating." "It is ok Simmons! You guys are guests! Please let us put up the groceries."Caboose was beyond happy.

Tucker laughed derisively. "Yeah, Wash will make you make an inventory of how much pasta is left if you stay in any longer."

"Oooh," said Simmons. "Is it characterized by shape too?"

Everyone paused and stared at Simmons.

"I'm kidding," he said. The Maroon Trooper left the groceries on the counter and grabbed a beer for himself. Grif shook his head the pair joined Donut and Doc on the couch with the ladies. "You scared me Simmons," Wash heard Grif say.

* * *

Sitting in the glow of the screen, Wash realized he was glad to be around people. He and Belquin took his favorite recliner. They sat enveloped with each other. Wash was apprehensive when he felt himself growing. She was snuggling against him. He had not realized how starved he was for affection. He understood how Caboose could ask for hugs now. They made one feel so much better.

No one was watching the movie. In fact, Wash found it amusing to watch everyone else. He didn't want to think it was contributing to his erection, but it probably was. Wash observed that Caboose was a breast man. He liked to speak to his lover and get her feedback as to what she liked. The woman apparently loved the size of his hands. She had no problem telling him what she wanted. When she whispered something in his ear, Caboose got on his thinking face. Spoke something. She giggled, loudly and they trotted off to his room.

Doc and the creepy smiley lady were in a full on make out session. Wash hadn't told the medic where he could retire. He heard Tucker say, "Hey Doc," and something else. They soon disappeared down the hall. Then there was Donut, whose lady friend, Phoebe had been thoroughly usurped from Tucker. Phoebe had one hand in Donut's sandy hair, and the other hand down's Donut's pants.

They were kissing, but his hands were gripping the back of the couch in a merciless grip. They were laughing into each other's mouths. Was it some kind of challenge? Lavernius wasn't too put out. He had _two_ ladies on either side of him. The Red and The Blue respectively left the living room after a few more heated minutes. That just left Simmons and Grif, Carolina and another Lady Baller.

Simmons was currently being straddled. His hands firmly holding an ass that made Wash think that was just what asses were for. Then he looked at Grif and Carolina. It was hard to look, at first. Then when Wash started _seeing,_ he couldn't look away.

Carolina wore a grin, a huge grin. She was saying something to Hawaiian that was making him exceedingly uncomfortable. His chest was rising up and down noticeably. The rate of his blinking had sped up. He heard the Gold trooper say something to the effect of "it's the booze" before taking a swing of…his _two_ beers.

Carolina's hand began to creep towards Grif's crotch. Belquin, clearly watching as well, gave a little gasp. Grif shot off the couch like he had been fired from a gun.

"I-I'm going to go. I'm just gonna go," he said. He was patting his pockets for his keys. At that moment Simmons disengaged from his lady. He frowned at Grif.

"I probably need to find place for those four to sleep," Wash whispered to Belquin. She nodded. "Captain Grif, you're too drunk to make it off the mountain. Let's find you a place to bunk." Grif huffed. "Fine," he said.

Wash noticed that Carolina was in a full on pout. She had an expression on her face that belied the fact that the Director had thoroughly spoiled her. She _would_ have whatever she wanted. Wash did not engage. Grif followed Wash to a linen closet and down a hall.

"Sleeping alone?" said Wash. "Yeah, I'm fucking sleeping alone," said Grif. "You wanna talk about it?" said Wash. "No, too drunk," he said. Wash left it at that. Simmons appeared at the end of the hall with lady friend in hand. The last two rooms on the left should have linens, but if not the closet is right here. "Roger that," said Simmons. There. Now, he could make his way back to _his_ lady friend.

Carolina marched passed him down the hall.

Dexter Grif was a grown man. That's what Wash told himself. Wash applauded him for having moral fiber. Wash could see that Carolina was hammered maybe even passed that. Alcohol did that to one's judgement. It impaired the better half and amplified the worst parts. Carolina didn't like the word no.

Wash wasn't hammered. That meant, most of his judgement was intact. This meant Grif was on his own. Wash wasn't about to step in front of her. He didn't feel like getting his ass handed to him.

Belquin sat looking up from the recliner like a little prairie dog. Apparently, she had watched Carolina storm down the hall after them. A door slammed _hard_ behind. There was a muffled shout. A loud thud. Silence.

Belquin looked up at him.

"Are you going to check on him?" said Belquin. Wash thought about it. Dexter Grif was probably being violated at that moment. The awful double standard was staring both of them in the face.

"No," said Wash. He held out his hand. Wash powered down the screen.

That night, was the first night Wash slept without nightmares.

* * *

Wash woke up alone. The white dress was still pooled on the floor. He could hear footsteps in his the house. Voices. Fast voices. Familiar, but alarmed. Something was wrong. Wash slid on a pair of pants. He padded down the hall. The cool floor felt good on feet. It grounded him.

"What's going on?" said Wash. The Ballers were huddled together. They all stared at Wash. Grif and Simmons were on cell phones speaking in fast authoritative tones. Tucker and Caboose were running with _bowls of ice._ Belquin, Doc, and Donut and the smiley lady were no where to be found.

"HEY!" Wash shouted. "Talk to me!" Grif and Simmons looked at the ladies. They were on very important calls it seemed.

"It was those blonde bitches," said one of Tucker's ladies. Her name was Seargeant Felicia Jackson. "Those bitches put a date rape drug in those drinks. Grif ended his call. "I knew it last night. I knew something was wrong with her."

"You were drunk yourself," said Wash. "You can't expect to be on your toes like that." There he was trying to make people feel better. Something dawned on Wash. "Wait a minute, they brought those drinks over to you two." Simmons nodded. "Wash, you may or may not be aware, but Vanessa is experiencing a lot of opposition from old Armonian aristocracy. We think that they tried to pump us full of an aggressive ahprodisac."

"So they can say you raped them later," Wash finished.

"So _we_ can say _we_ raped them later," said Grif. "That shit makes you horny _and_ aggressive."

"If all of Kimball's allies are discredited, jailed, or dead, they don't have to worry about us swaying the public vote in Kimball's favor," said Simmons.

"Everyone knows that you guys are working to rebuild the civilization here so ultimately the people of Chorus can govern and protect themselves," said Phoebe. "Right," said Simmons. "The Aristocracy want to bring back the old monarchy. They claim democracy is what led them down the path to war in the first place."

"Well, they have to about worry _us_ now. Those fucks!" The Lady Ballers all made sounds of agreement.

The drug wouldn't kill Carolina then. Killing wasn't the motive so Wash calmed down a degree. "Let us know if we can help," said Arista Bellamy. She was a Staff Seargeant from Reach.

Grif punched the wall nearest to him. The wall bore the punch on its chin. The plaster cracked under the wait of it. Grif grunted and laid into again. It looked like the wall was bleeding. "Grif!" said Simmons. Grif laid into with a combo. The left right devasting the surface. Wash let him do it. Wash preferred punching mirrors. The shattering was therapeutic. His own well anger was mounting, rising. He would need to kill something soon if it was left unchecked.

"Grif!" A leather clad arm braced around Grif's arm and neck.

"GET OFF," the Gold Trooper growled. Sarge, showing that he was still his superior, introduced Grif to the floor. Grif was growling, but Wash noticed tears. He knew tears like that, they were salty and hot. "Save it for the assholes, son. We'll beat the hell of them soon enough like always."

"Oh shit, Grif's been working out."

Epsilon was eyeing the hole in the wall. At the sound of his voice Grif stopped struggling. "Yes sir," he said. Sarge let him up. Caboose and Tucker came barrelling down the hall like kids on Christmas. "Church!" cried Tucker. "CHURCH," cried Caboose. "How is sis doing?" he said. "Doc just got her temperature to normal and the vomitting has stopped," Tucker reported. Everyone made sounds of relief. Epsilon said nothing. Washington's AI unit walked up to him and tilted his robotic head. "Agent Washington, let me get you up to speed."


	5. The Holiday

Author's Note: I had my first review! YAY! It made me so excited. Thank you! I don't know about how to reply to the reviewer directly. **_Some 1 says, "I liked this overall story, but I would like to point out that Grif/Carolina with mentions of York/Carolina is not really up to par. See, that would actually mean that she is, in a way, betraying York, whom she is deeply in love with still.  
Honestly, I thought that York and North (and anyone else) might be seen in the bar hanging out when I read the first chapter." _**Well, in response to this, I would like to offer this note. Of all of the Reds and Blues, Grif seems the most immune to Carolina's bad assness. Remember in Season 12, how Grif stood up to her when trying to keep the alien rifle? Remember, in Season 10, when he drives over the Freelancer guards and pulls up the Warthog in Season 10, he cuts the engine and says, "Sup" ? Well, I figured that if anyone is able to tango with Carolina's overbearing leadership attitude, it's Grif. Shouldn't be a big jump for him (Sarge). I'm not sure if you've kept reading, but hopefully further developments will show, they're not in love. It's not about love between these too. Also, Memory is the Key! Can you betray a Memory? AND whenever I watch Carolina and York interact, I can see York loving or caring in earnest, at least, for Carolina. He watches over while she trains. However, the only time in the series that I see her really lament over York is because he chose to go AWOL with Texas. The only person she shows affection towards is the Director and Church. Carolina is in love with competition, and being the best. That's her character flaw. She was so consumed with beating Texas that she couldn't let go. I questioned, why wasn't York's pleading enough? If she loved him, why didn't she ride off in the sunset with York? So, I want to challenge you to keep reading. Please enjoy!

* * *

Washington had to sit down. Epsilon, or Church, as he demanded to be called, explained to Wash about everything that had been happening on Chorus in a political sense. Epsilon, is new reformed self, was helping there restoring civil records, observing, thinking.

While the remaining forces of the Feds and New Republic were, now, under the newly United New Armonia Command or UNAC, there was some concern that the civilians would ultimately be controlled by UNSC operatives. While Carolina and Wash and fought against Felix and Locus, their deception had gone deep. So, Carolina had volunteered to train civilians and refused to get into the policy writing side at all. Whatever the civilians decided, is what she would do, and if she disagreed with them she would walk away.

The ruling civilians agreed to this. She was an excellent trainer. Civilian forces were able to quash civil disturbances with an amazing reaction time that almost rivaled their military forces response time. Eventually, President Vanessa Kimball approached the remaining colorful space marines to help their former Freelancer allies and citizens rebuild their world.

Vanessa decided to leave them in teams. Since Lavernius Tucker was already a Sanghelli ambassador, she let him fall in underneath military branch. It just made sense. Michael J. Caboose had been left to his own devices much to Vanessa's dismay. However, they had found that not only had expertly repurposed damaged warthogs into rolling war ambulances. He had even repaired a few to their original purpose. He told Vanessa that he got the idea from Blood Gulch when Tucker shot Church. They really could've used an ambulance. Tucker told Vanessa later that it was, in fact, Caboose that was the team killer. These two, and Doc or the Medic Dufrense fell in behind Washington.

General Donald Doyle had been a legacy royal. His involvement with the government had been to support democracy. His family members were rallying behind the General's sacrifice to hold up their claim to restoring the aristocracy. Fortunately, many of Doyle's former soldiers and adjutants cried out louder in support of the fallen general's true views. They seemed to back off for a little while, but something disturbing was happening. Two of Donald Doyle's closest associates during the conflict were missing.

Vanessa concluded they were dead or paid off. _Their_ closest associates assured her that they would never betray Doyle's memory in such a way to take blood money. Dexter and Simmons had been working on the civilian side. The pair closed, successfully, three missing person cases. In every case, the people were alive. Only one person was taken against her will, and was rescued successfully. Vanessa put Simmons and Grif on the case, but she knew they were hardly man hunters.

Epsilon paused in his dialogue.

Washington stood up.

"Sorry, I need to check on her." Wash was frowning. Wash had fun last night. His face hurt from all of the smiling. He knew where this was going. This was going back to the stressful times, as Caboose would say. Times of explosions and the distinct and decisive work of his battle rifle. Time of killing. He didn't want those times to come back. True enough, he was preparing people on a daily basis for times such as those. That didn't mean he liked them.

He just knew that history had a way of circling back around.

He focused all of his attention into where Carolina lay prone of a bed. The smiley lady was apparently an actual medical doctor. Tucker stood in a corner with both of his hands on his head. His eyes were wide. He was only clad in a pair of sweat pants and socks. Wash stared at him untilTucker could feel him looking.

Wash could hear Epsilon approaching. "What is up with your attention span?" said Church.

"Aren't you concerned about her too?" said Wash.

Church shook his head. "The probability of her dying, factoring in genetics and physical condition is roughly five percent. The toxin they are using is cocktail that is crazy, but it comes from plants and animals."

Tucker made a sound as if he was impressed. "So, it's organic, and leaves no trace in the body or blood once it breaks it down, huh? After it's all over, the person just thinks they went on a rager while boozed up." Church nodded. "You've been reading, haven't you Tucker?" Tucker shrugged. "God help us all," said Church. Tucker flipped off the AI unit.

"Okay, now that I know she's not going to die, I just realized she's not wearing pants." Doc, the Dr. Smiley Lady, Donut and Belquin looked at Tucker with a mild horror. They had covered Carolina's private parts, but no one huddled around did anything about her long legs. Wash had to admit it was somewhat distracting to him as well. He wouldn't be a hypocrite and chide the man this time.

"She looks like she's about my size. I'll go get her some," said Tucker.

Tucker retreated to his room. Caboose followed.

Washington expected Caboose needed clarity on Carolina's status. After a moment, the pair returned with pants, shirt, and a teddy bear. He handed them to Belquin.

"The teddy bear is from Caboose," he said. Belquin stared at the bear. "How sweet," she said. "The pants are from me," said Tucker immediately. Belquin glared at Tucker.

Wash turned on his critical eye.

He wondered if the two would be drawn to each other since they were both of the same ethnicity. Tucker was younger and looked like he could be on a UNSC recruitment poster or modeling swimsuits. Plus, he had swagger to back up all of his shit talking.

Wash braced himself to see the signs of her attraction. He told himself that if he saw a little, even just a hint, he would just let Tucker take her home. The woman owed him no loyalty after all.

Yet, Belquin leveled a serious _what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you_ look at Tucker so fierce that Washington almost backed into the hall himself. To top it all off, she was standing in the room clad only in his threadbare gray sweatshirt that hung past her thighs. The word 'Washington' across the front was faded but still visible. That made him smile.

"See what I did there Wash?" said Tucker. "When a woman, especially a black woman, looks at you like that. Do not engage, I repeat, do _not_ engage. That's her activating her reserve supply of crazy. The probability sky rockets to about an eighty percent chance that she is going to claw the shit out of you. There is hotness factor multiplier of two percent. Which in Belquin's case, don't let all that cuteness fool you." Epsilon snorted. "That's hardly scientific," he said.

Little notes of laughter could be heard from…Carolina. "Quin, don't kill Tucker, okay?" The anger melted from her visage. She moved to the head of the bed and showed Carolina the bear. It was then that Wash noticed the tubes coming out of Carolina's arms. Were they drawing blood?

"So, um, what are you guys doing?" said Wash. "Trying to extract the toxin from her blood. There was enough vomitus, so we can hope to gather some from that as well," said the doctor smiley lady.

"Is there anything I can do?" said Wash.

"You need to hear the rest of this story, Wash," said Epsilon. Wash padded back to his kitchen. He detected movement outside of his window. He noticed that the Lady Ballers, Sarge, Grif and Simmons were now outside on his deck. Someone had lit his grill. Smoke billowed from the gaping lid. Wash was actually glad for this because he wanted to eat before he went to work. He'd have to call his secretary.

"Hang on Epsilon," said Wash. "I need to call my office to let them know I'll be late."

"Wash," said Epsilon. "It's a national holiday. It's been two years since we defeated Charon." The AI unit held his hands out to his sides as if to say "Hello?" "Holy fuck Wash, I thought Tucker was exaggerating."

In Wash's mind everyday was a training day. His new batch of recruits would be coming in only two weeks, and his latest batch was just about ready to graduate. He didn't see a reason to slow down production of soldiers. He thought it unwise. It was best to be prepared with a well-trained standing army. History had told them this countless times. Besides this, something had told Wash that Chorus would need them.

"In a time of peace, prepare for war," said Wash. Church tilted his head. "See, that's why Kimball needs you on this." Wash went to his refrigerator. He looked at the array of fresh fruits and decided to make a fruit salad for his guests. "Needs me on what?" said Wash.

"Her opponents are intellectuals, but they are cowards. She thinks if she sends you in to sniff around, the investigation may make some progress." Wash shook his head. "I'm no intellectual. I'm a soldier."

"Where was that quote from?" asked Church. "You're a part of the mind of Dr. Leonard Church, Epsilon. I'm sure you know it even if your memories of us are second hand."

"But do _you_?" Wash began to undress a pineapple. "Yeah, Ecclesiastes." "See, Tucker knows where that's from too. He would've just said the Bible, but you, Wash. I bet you know Chapter and Verse don't you?" Wash nodded. "Yeah, I love reading. So what?"

"You like _culture_ ," said Epsilon. The AI made grabbing gesture with his hands that reminded Wash of Felix.

"Ever read Sun Tzu?" Wash thought about sending the knife through Church's robot head, but decided against it. He was being cornered, methodically and slowly. His ire was slowly climbing. "You've been in here haven't you?" He tapped his temple with the tip of the knife.

"See! That's just what we need. You're smart and but slightly off your rocker. You'd shake their old rich asses up." Wash adeptly moved the knife through the fruit. He had the salad completed in a matter of minutes. "Even when you cook you're scary," said Epsilon. "I'm _not_ scary," said Wash.

Wash picked up the bowl of fruit and carried it to his deck. The girls all exclaimed in thanks.

Wash took a moment to survey the scene. Simmons was manning the grill flanked by two women who looked to be giving instructions. "Yeah, that's it," said Marjorie Chelmsford. Wash took a look at her backside and recognized that the blonde woman had been Simmon's escort for the evening. _Well done, Simmons,_ he thought. Simmons wore a smile as the women told him what to do. Some things don't change.

Sarge was exchanging baby pictures with three other women. They were all remarking about how Sarge's boy had Sarge's dimples. How handsome he would grow up to be. Sarge was all smiles.

Dexter Grif was sitting in silence staring off at the mountains of Chorus. Wash also noticed the very large bottle of vodka in his hand.

"That's no breakfast for a space marine," said Wash. He moved to snatch the bottle away from Grif. Grif jerked the bottle away. Wash could have taken it, but decided not to. He sat the bowl of fruit on the table nearest him. A pain of guilt gnawed at Wash. He had never seen the Hawaiian so stoic.

"Grif," said Wash. "I'm sorry. I should've gone back for you." Grif looked at Wash. His head turn was so slow that Wash suddenly wished he was holding a knife. His muscles prepared themselves to dodge the fifth bottle. Grif regarded Wash for a moment. Wash noticed a cut above Grif's eye. Had Carolina done that?

"You probably would've just been next Wash. That girl is whacked," said Grif. He took a swig of vodka.

"What happened?" said Wash. Grif shrugged. "Well, from I remember, between the punches and the biting, she was totally going on about something I had no idea about." Grif blinked rapidly a few times. "It doesn't matter. I woke up beside her. She looked dead except she was burning up.

"Did she…did she…um…" Wash didn't know what to say.

"All signs point to yes, but I really can't remember," said Grif. Wash perceived that as untrue. The younger man was dealing with his feelings with booze. While Wash could relate, he didn't approve. "It does matter." Grif looked up at him. "Hmm?" "Your pain," said Wash. "It matters."

"How is she?" said Sarge. "Church said we shouldn't worry."

The ladies turned their eyes on him. "That's true," said Wash. "She was laughing when I left." The ladies made a round of relief noises.

Wash made up his mind.

Washington came back into the kitchen.

"Tell Vanessa, I'm in."

Church nodded. "I'm going to take this body to Sarge's truck. I've got some other work to do. Going dark." Wash understood. The AI Unit needed to refrain from making more memories with them so he _could_ work.

* * *

Tucker and Caboose drove the ladies home in their respective vehicles. Wash didn't want to leave Carolina. She had shooed everyone away. Now, she just sat with an ice pack pressed against her temple.

Carolina came into the kitchen, moving like she was walking on stilts.

"Any food?" said Carolina. Wash gestured towards the deck where the Reds and Blues….his friends were still gathered. He watched as Carolina moved through the sliding doors to his deck. Carolina's hair hung loose. The wind tousled it a little bit. She plopped down in a chair next Grif. He watched as she spoke a few words to him. Grif got up from his chair said something and came inside. Carolina was obviously angered. She stayed in her seat.

"Well," said Wash. "That escalated quickly."

Grif came into the kitchen and looked at Wash.

"Snacks?" said Grif. Wash pointed to the pantry. Grif took a cursory glance and looked at Wash. "No, man, not this health bullshit. Real junk food, please."

"Oh, just move my things to the side," said Wash. Grif made a happy sound. He gathered a few things that had loud plastic wrappers. Grif began to walk towards the front part of the house. "Where are you going?" said Wash. "To my car," said Grif. "Why?" said Wash.

"To eat my feelings," shouted Grif, who was already departed.

Carolina bolted up from her seat and made her way inside the kitchen. Carolina looked around, not seeing Grif made her way to the living room. She returned a moment later.

Her green eyes were ablaze. Wash took this moment to study her. She wore an expression of confusion. "He locked himself in his car, Carolina." Her mouth hung open in moment of shock. It closed. She about faced and disappeared. Wash was moving then. He called out to her. Thankfully, her movement was still stilted. He caught her by the wrist and spun her around.

"No," said Wash. "No, you don't get to demand anything." Wash kept his voice low. He could hear the sound of feet behind him. "He is acting like he's the one who got drugged!" Carolina shouted. "I'm the one who drank that poison."

Carolina tried to jerk herself away, but Wash gave her arm a hard yank. "Give him time," said Wash. "Do you remember what happened?" Carolina blushed. She did remember, but didn't think it was that huge of a deal. The two of them were friends. Grif, Simmons, and Donut had become a part of her daily life. Her team. There had been some weird sexual tension mingled with fear, but they were so far past that. Aboard the _Mother of Invention_ , no one could be vulnerable.

"Little lady," said Sarge. Wash noted how stealthy the older man was. He didn't hear him approach at all. "From what I'm told, you drank some drinks meant for Grif and Simmons, right?" Carolina nodded still trying to get out of Wash's grip. Why couldn't she make her arms work?

"You don't really expect us to believe that you didn't know what was in them, do you? I think that you knew all about the neurotoxi-potion or whatever. That you didn't want to watch Grif and Simmons suffer. You wanted to take it all on yourself. Am I right?"

Wash looked at Sarge. The silver-haired man was staring at Carolina, daring her to make to a rebuttable. Carolina in turn glared at him. The longer she didn't respond gave Wash a chance to remember. She had taken the right out of the two men's hands and _pounded them both._ The two blondes _vanished_ after that. Hadn't Simmons said they were locked in to join their little party?

Wash let go of her arm. She stumbled backward falling on her ass. She looked up at him with a mounting anger he knew all too well. He told himself he would _not be beaten_ not in his own home.

"You _knew_ ," said Grif. Grif was standing in the doorway of the kitchen while Simmons and the others were standing in the other egress to the deck.

"No wonder the blonds disappeared. They knew Miss King Kong She Ape was about to go ballistic." Carolina reached out a hand. Sarge waited for a moment and helped her up.

"Carolina, you should have told us," said Simmons. "We could have made a plan…together."

Carolina rubbed her rear with her hand. "I didn't want to risk either of you being arrested or worse. We needed to see the effects of the toxin and figure out what it was made of. This was the best way. Let's be honest, a woman jumping on a guy, is not exactly a capital offense." Wash couldn't say anything. That had been the reason he ignored her, hadn't it? Wash hung his head on his shoulders.

"Regardless of our society's shortcomings," said Sarge. " _You_ don't get to make that decision for them." Carolina glared at him. "You never made decisions for your team Colonel? I made a decision as a leader. I'm their _leader._ It's my job."

"I gave them orders all the time. I've emasculated him. I've talked down to him. I've even shot at him with a tank. But one thing I never did was make decisions with him in the dark. To me, they were never just my subordinates, they were my fellow Marines. I respected them both enough to let them know what the hell was going on, even when you Freelancers kept us in the dark. Despite what you may think following your leader is still a choice."

Carolina's shoulders shook a little bit. She wrapped her arms around herself. A hand shot up to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut. Wash understood that feeling. Being outside the warm hard blanket of one's armor was unsettling. It made it all too easy to be flooded with emotions. Carolina breathed deep.

"How do I fix it?" said Carolina. Sarge shook his head, "You don't get to decide that either. For years, we were controlled, manipulated, and lied to. _We_ don't operate that way. _You_ have to learn that. Get that Freelancer bullshit out of your system." Tears spilled out of Carolina's green eyes. She shrugged. Tucker's big T-shirt made her look very small.

"How? T-That's all I've ever been," she said. She was silently crying. Donut made a little whimper. Sarge gave her a very fatherly hug. She was a girl, and he had made her cry. That wasn't good.

"We all make mistakes, Carolina," said Wash. "I should have stopped you."

Carolina put her head on Sarge's shoulder. "How bad did I hurt him?"

"He's pretty bruised," said Doc carefully. The medic didn't want to give the extent of Grif's injuries to everyone. "It was mostly fat," said Sarge who patted her head.

* * *

Sometime later, Wash sat on his bed and listened to Belquin shower. He had laundered her white dress and had left in the bathroom. She came out of the bathroom looking like a vision. The waves in her hair framed her face. She looked refreshed.

"I had fun last night, and today, despite everything," she said. Wash slid off the bed. He wore a frown. "Is it okay that I fell asleep before sex?" She smiled at him for a full minute and then nodded. "I think you were sleepwalking when you came to bed," she said. He had wrapped his arms around her and promptly fell asleep. "I felt quite safe in your arms, Agent Washington."

He drove her home. She lived in a quaint cottage just outside of New Armonia. He found that she was still living out of boxes. She had gone upstairs, to change out of her club clothes into a pair shorts and T-shirt.

"You just moved," he said.

"Yes. I lived with Laura for a while, and then I got this place."

Wash looked at her. "I'd like to kiss you now," he said. He surprised himself with that one. She smiled so sweetly at him. Their lips met. Heat exploded through Wash's blood. His hands crawled over her skin. Her skin the color of café au lait was so lovely in the dim apartment light. It made him think he was in a lovely peaceful dream scape. His dreamscapes had been very dark and grim lately.

He hoisted her off her feet and pressed her body into his groin. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

A deep groan rose up out of his throat. A little gasp escaped her throat. She tasted his mouth greedily. They were so needy. They were both so needy. They could feel it each other's fingers. The greedy pull of their lips.

"Your phone Wash," she said. Her breath was coming fast. "Your phone is buzzing." Wash exhaled loudly. He held her there and fished his phone out of his pocket. He saw the picture of Lavernius Tucker on the screen. He declined the call. He returned to her mouth. The sucking and tasting was loud in the little cottage. He decided that he wanted to taste more. His phone was humming again. Wash groaned.

"Take it," she said. He walked her over to the sofa and plopped down with her on his lap.

"What, Tucker-"

"There's been a bombing Wash."


	6. Back to Work

Author's Note: I love you my one reviewer you are precious! I love reivews because a writer's joy is not only finding the journey of your characters, but having others with you! Incidentally, I have to say that I don't own Red vs. Blue!

* * *

Washington hardly looked official. When he arrived at the coordinates Tucker gave his only cover was an old ball cap. The old military habit refusing to die, he secured it with a little tug. His uniform was his weekend wear. A faded T-Shirt and denim. People recognized him. They parted, told him good afternoon, called him sir.

Captain Lavernius Tucker stood on a charred playground. He looked a little better than he did in a baby blue polo with his jeans. He looked at the ground and then towards the sky as if he was waiting for some divine salutation. A woman that Wash recognized as Dr. Emily Grey was frowning intently at lump of smoldering dirt. Dr. Grey's wild blonde mane made Wash feel like he needed to give her his hat. Although, he thought that wouldn't be enough to contain it.

Caboose was walking, carefully, through the remains of the other equipment. Eventually, he kneeled slowly by mangled monkey bars. Wash knew that Caboose thinking about the children that would have been playing there, had it not been for the holiday. They were probably all at the beaches. Wash found it disturbing to see the man's usually childish expression so serious.

The other people in blue coveralls, scooping and raking were speaking in low voices. Someone swirled blue liquid in a test tube.

"Casualties?" Wash asked.

"None," said Dr. Grey. "It was empty. They knew it. They wanted to make a statement."

Caboose walked up holding something that looked like a detonator in his hand. "Now what will the children do for fun?" "They'll find a way Caboose," said Tucker. Tucker leaned his face very close to the detonator.

"It looks like metal, doesn't it?" said Dr. Grey. "It's not. It's entirely organic. I bet my left tit." Tucker looked at her. His big browns eyes panned over to Wash. "I'm starting to see a pattern."

"Anyone claim responsibility yet?" asked Wash. The sooner they knew who they were, the sooner he could clean them up. Tucker shook his head. "Vanessa told me to call you. She wanted you to know from gate."

"I'm just a trainer," said Wash. "For now," said Dr. Grey. Her large gray eyes peered at him. He suddenly felt naked, exposed. "Well, listen, team. There is a possibility that I may actually have sex today. So, when we know that this isn't more than just arson, but an actual military operation, give me a call."

"Sorry to interrupt your sex life Commander."

Vanessa Kimball now wore her long auburn hair down and favored pants suits over her suit of armor, but that voice was as every bit as cutting. Her hands were balled into fists. She walked up to him and pointed at the dead play area.

"What do you think they are trying to say?" Wash shook his head. "It's clearly a threat," said Wash.

"No, it's not clear. Not to everyone. I've got people in my own cabinet trying to convince me that this was the work of children playing with left over ordinances."

"I would say that you need new cabinet members, Madam President," said Wash. "What I need is competent people I know I can trust." Just then a truck similar to his own parked next to his. Grif and Simmons hopped out clad in actual suits. Black. Tailored. Holy shit, _professional._ Simmons seeing Wash's confusion, "We keep suits in the truck."

"Report," said Kimball. All business as always. Grif blinked at her and replied.

"We've shut down all public transportation and postponed the event in the square until we can get the area swept." Wash's brain began to work. "You need eyes on roofs, tall buildings, any prime vantage point." Kimball looked at Wash and then back to Grif. "Do it." Grif and Simmons nodded and turned to leave.

"How is Carolina?" said Kimball. "Did we get the information we need?" Grif blinked at her again. "Unknown." He left without another word. "Dr. Shields is still running tests," said Simmons. He ran back to the truck since Grif was shifting into gear without him. So Kimball and Carolina were in on it together. Wash held his peace on that issue.

I could use a Freelancer in that square this evening. Those men look up to you," she said. "If you can squeeze in a little work in between sex, I'd feel a little better." Wash watched as Vanessa's eyes traveled from his down to his shoes and back up to his eyes.

"Is that an order?" asked Wash. "Not this time. Not today." Wash knew the day was coming. He knew.

"I'll see what I can do," said Wash. Vanessa left. He watched as she climbed into a black SUV that he was sure was armored like his.

"Holy fuck," said Tucker. "What?" said Wash. "Kimball was checking you out man," said Tucker in low whisper. There was a little excitement in his voice. Wash shook his head. Had that been what he saw just now? He thought it a raking _you-ain't-shit-but-a-dog-with-a-bone_ stare.

He needed to know when the civilian forces were mobilizing. He needed to see maps, video footage. He needed to know the flow of traffic and how many people would be in the square today. He needed to know more about this explosive. Was Sarge going to be there?

Back to work.

He thought of Belquin standing in her doorway. _"Please call as soon as you're able. Just to say that you're alright."_ He was too wound up to deny himself.

Wash ran back to his truck. "Tucker I call you in an hour," he called over his shoulder. "We have to be in square in two hours," Tucker called. He'd trained his men to mobilize themselves in twenty minutes. Carolina probably did the same with the civilians. There was time.

* * *

He drove back to the cottage. She was sitting in a hammock knees tucked to her chest. In the sunlight her dark waves had hues of auburn. She rocked slowly on the porch.

Belquin was holding a small device in her hand. He didn't have to guess that she was watching the news. Upon seeing him pull up she stood on her feet and put a hand over her mouth.

"How bad?" the news isn't saying much. President Kimball just released a statement." Wash nodded. He guided her back into the house.

"She asked me to pull security detail tonight at the celebration," said Wash. "I think it is good she doesn't want to cancel it," said Belquin. "People shouldn't live in fear." Wash noticed a little quake in her voice.

"What do you do for a living Belquin?" said Wash. He suddenly wanted to know. She looked up at him. "We don't have time right now, do we Wash?" She said it in her husky Zen voice. Calm. Direct.

"David," he said. "My name is David." She smiled. In their lives, the lives of soldiers one rarely did things in 'order'. She didn't need to know details. As far as she was concerned it was the mettle of the man that mattered.

"David, that's not why you came back here, is it? For backstory?"

"I'm okay without it, for now, actually," he said as a matter of fact.

He kissed her.

He tried to savor the moment. He thought about taking her to her bedroom. He didn't know where that was. "Rug. Soft," she said in between breaths.

He was guiding his hands gently beneath her T-Shirt. "You don't have to be romantic this time," she said. "You don't have to think about my feelings." She was stroking his dark curls now. The soothing gesture mixed with exhilaration of her body pressed against his was sensory overload.

He kissed her again.

His brain wasn't exactly running on all its cylinders. He made sound to indicate confusion. She laughed at him. "I need this too," she said. She put her mouth next to his ear. "It's okay to do what you want. Go ahead a fuck me."

And he did.

Wash stretched her out and stripped her naked in swift adept movements. His own clothes forgotten, joined his body with hers in a single motion. _Hunger._ It was a hunger. Her fingers were clutching his hair now. Her nails dug into his shoulder. Little whimpers escaped her throat at the impact of his pounding. Her words reverberated in his mind sending him into an animal like drive. He thrust with abandon.

 _I'm hurting her_ , he thought but, he didn't stop until the world exploded around them.

They lay in silence for approximately eight minutes. Wash's internal clock told him that he had to call Tucker soon. He lay very still inside of her afraid the magic would flee if he moved or spoke.

"You have to go," she said. She looked like she was half asleep, but her body told him that she was quite awake. He decided to carry her to bedroom. It was washed in a feminine palette. Wash watched as she curled herself together. He was already aching again. He would have to get out of there as fast as he could.

He was enjoying himself too much. When was the last time he had satisfied a lady? Wash couldn't tear his eyes away from curve of her waist to her hip. That womanly hourly glass curved around to her rear end. He gave it a squeeze. She mewled. She tried to wiggle her bottom away from his hand, but he squeezed it again.

He made a mental note to further explore this…later.

Belquin wrapped herself in a blanket.

He planted a kiss on her lips that he savored another second too long.

"Thank you," said Wash. She didn't open her eyes, but snuggled deeper into the blanket. Wash felt a pang in his gut. He wanted to stay in bed. He wanted to ignore the act of domestic terror. He wanted to satisfy himself. He wanted that, but ignored the thought. That wasn't an option. He dressed as quickly as he could. He wanted to talk about painting her walls and weeding the paltry patch of dirt in front of her yard.

His stomach tugged at him hard. Food. He went into her kitchen. His eyes swept the counters. It was the only room she had unpacked. She owned an actual stand mixer. Wash wondered what her favorite food was.

What did she even do? Had she eaten at his house? Was she a vegetarian? Suddenly he wanted to open every drawer and cupboard. He went to a cupboard to find something he could eat on the go. He smiled when he saw an absence of junk food. He decided to open the other. His jaw dropped when he saw the adjacent cupboard was with a variety of cookies, chips, fig bars, and candy he had never seen before. He grabbed a pack of fig bars.

"There is a sandwich in the fridge." Wash jumped. He didn't hear her. She stood there in arms folded, in his 'Washington' sweat shirt. She took it. She noticed him looking at it.

"I hope you don't mind." "I don't," he said. "Not at all," he said. Wash found a mammoth sandwich wrapped in plastic mounted on a plate. It looked too big for her.

He grabbed it. He felt time pulling him out the door. "We have to talk about your pantry full of diabetes later." She gave him a playful punch to his chest.

"Don't judge me," she said. Wash pulled her in for kiss. He ground his groin against her belly. He wanted her to see how well he could please her again.

She hummed as if she had just tasted a rich delectable piece of chocolate. That gave him a few self-esteem points. Wash's phone buzzed. They both knew who that was. Wash found his phone. He crinkled his nose.

 _"_ _WHERE ARE YOU?"_ – Tucker. Shit. She pushed him away from her.

* * *

Commander Washington wasn't the tallest man in the ranks, but of all the armor clad men walking around, she thought him the most intimidating. He would disagree, of course. Although the Commander was a rather docile man, when he was clad in his black suit and elected to keep his helmet off, the dark gaze exposed, he was more than offputting. He was over six feet tall. He had the shoulders of a bull, and there was something more solid than just his frame. Even if he smiled you could see something just beneath the surface. It was hard, steely, but transient. It moved around him, covering him like the gray and yellow steel he currently wore. The allure wasn't just his angular jaw and his dark crop curls, it was his nature. He was completely oblivious to his magnetism, but it was something Vanessa Kimball fully intended to exploit.

"You're late," she said.

He strode past her and went to his desk. Yes, he was in his office, not hers. "Tucker said that we have assembled the best of the sharp shooters. We'll be on post in a hard twenty."

Vanessa didn't bother to address his tardiness. She knew what he had been doing. She wondered who the lucky girl was. Then she hated her and hoped she died. Vanessa kicked herself for the juvenile moment of jealously and began her briefing.

People were coming from all over Chorus for the celebration. She told herself that putting Wash and his trained marksmen on the roofs above the crowd was an excellent choice. It wasn't really choice. She knew that. She had very few options. She always had run low on those, all of her life.

* * *

As he was listening to Vanessa, Belquin was sliding in to armor of her own. The text from Grif had come just after Wash left.

 _"_ _Need u. Armor up. Will call."_ – D. Grif.

She thought about telling Wash, but dismissed it. He would just be confused, and maybe even concerned. They had not spoken about why she was on Chorus at all. They were just enjoying each other. She was sure the info dump would come later. She wanted him only to survive the night. It didn't seem like a hard assignment, one never knew how these things would work out. The military was like a Stephen King novel, no one was safe, not the dog, not the cat and not the baby.

Her outfit, the Office of Naval Intelligence, had very little interests on Chorus. There were aliens, but no black market activity or terrorist cells, at least not yet. That was why she took the assignment. She only hoped it was far enough from her old life.

The sun was setting on Chorus. She cloaked herself and stalked into the dusk.


	7. Plot Turn

I don't own Red vs. Blue.

* * *

The New Armonia Civic Center was alive.

Music pumped into the air. Citizens danced. Jugglers juggled. Children played.

Antoine Bitters wished he could scratch his nuts. His captain was above him, hidden.

People milled about with funnel cakes and cotton candy. The courtyards were draped in bright colored streamers. Screens displayed images of the battlefield from that day when the War with Hargrove was finally won. An image of General Donald Doyle hovered on the screens and lingered. The fires of patriotism stoked to its hottest. People yelled, cheered, and waved flags at the image.

Catherine Elizabeth Doyle was his grandmother.

If her Donnie had survived he would be President and the transition to Kingship would have been so much easier.

Catherine didn't have much to work with now that her Donnie was dead. She only had a cousin of his from a daughter she didn't like. Denton was hardly leadership material, but he could be easily controlled and looked nearly identical to Donald. Catherine had worked with less. Many aristocracy fled Chorus because of the war. The ones who stayed, well, she considered unimportant. Only her Donnie had resolved to stay.

She settled into her box seat and looked at the crowd. These were her people, her subjects. Before the destructive dissent into democracy, classes and order existed on Chorus. Her father was the last of the great monarchs and her Donnie could have been the next.

She spat on her father's grave. He agreed to abdicate. He felt that a King must have the consent of governed and blah, blah, blah. The old entitlements of royalty were dead and gone before he was.

The peasants constructed a capital with money from their coffers. Then, many years later, Donald blew it up. She found that fitting. Now, tonight, she would show them that they needed a King. Like the ancient times, they were cry out for a king to be placed over them. The Kimball woman ate at her nerves like a human bitch sized termite. She would show them that a republic is only as good as those elected. Catherine found this breed as inefficient as the last. She only needed to make everyone else see.

Catherine sighed. Every transition of power had its own unpleasantness. The beefcake that attended her tonight would provide the most comfort. She clutched the beefcake's arm and announced that it was time for her to retire.

* * *

Arturo Melevenich didn't want to do this, but he had to. What choice did he have? She threatened his job and his kids. He had to be careful. If he failed, he would wind up killing himself. He had to do it just right. The weapon was too delicate. God, his palms were sweaty.

He was just north of all the festivities. He was alone. He had time to do this right.

The weapon looked like a child's science fair project, but they had seen its effectiveness. He would fire it. They would pay him. Then, he could get off this planet.

"Hey there."

Arturo shit his pants.

She appeared in front him from nowhere. Dear God, was that _MJOLNIR_ armor? No…the soldier was too short, far too short, to be a SPARTAN. Unless she was some new model, she wasn't a SPARTAN. That didn't matter. She could still put hot metal into his brain. Her head tilted.

"Did you shit your pants?" Arturo nodded. He could feel the sludge spilling out of his briefs and down his leg, chunks of it lodging itself in his leg hair.

"Listen," she said. "If you move to detonate that, you're going to die. If you tell me what I want to know, I'm going to hide you. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

He nodded. "Yes, yes please. I need help. My f-family."

Oh, did this plot ever get old? Genius gets shanghaied for some evil organizations whims under the pain of death. "When is this thing supposed to detonate?"

"In one hour," he said.

"Can you get your family to these coordinates?" She showed him on a data pad.

"Yes," he said. The prospect of actually getting off the planet sent a wave of hope up his spine. He called them. A silver gun was waved in front of his face. His eyes followed the nozzle. She pressed into his neck. Arturo pissed his pants. She cursed.

She shot him. He choked on the scream.

"I'm tracking you now." He clapped a hand against his neck. Only a tracking chip. "Go ahead and dig it out if you want. You want to?" He shook his head. Arturo was crying silently. Pissy and shitty, he tried to convey to the iron woman that he would cooperate. She gathered him up. Arturo shambled alongside her sniveling. She wanted him to shut up, but if they encountered the enemy, they would die. So, his noisiness made for chum at least.

Then it happened.

"Where are you going Melevenich?"

Her primary target strode out from behind the corner like he was singing in the rain. This one, this one, in particular needed to die. _How?_ A bullet to the brain would look too professional, like an execution, too military.

The pistol pressed into his forehead made his bravado flee. She walked him back into the alley. She was careful not to let the metal push his forehead less it leave an imprint. The deserted street was now her accomplice.

"Drop your pants, please," she said. "Now." A wave of emotions crisscrossed his face.

"I can use this pistol to help you if you like," she said. Denton Doyle had bright green eyes and other recessive features that said he may have been inbred. His cock certainly didn't like the exposure to the open air. Well, she needed his cock to get its act together.

Thankfully, Melevenich stayed quiet. He knew to do that much. She slid a dark pair of shades onto his face. Kang Xi began to run the pornographic program into the man's retinas. Before she knew it, his cock was back on duty.

"Go ahead and jerk off, Denton," she said.

"W-Why," he said. "What are you going to do?" There was a moment of silence. "Watch," she said. The rich had appetites that they could afford to indulge. She didn't need to know what they were to exploit that. They were all the same.

What if I don't?" he said.

"If you don't, I can always put a bullet in your cock. Although, I don't think it would survive this caliber of bullet. It's armor piercing." Denton's knees vibrated back and forth. _Please don't shit yourself,_ she thought.

Melevenich was facing the other direction while Denton got busy. When she saw that he was near his peak, she adjusted him so the evidence would be all over his clothes and his skin. She shot his abdomen three times. The suppressed fire hissed in hot quick bursts.

They continued to the ship. Team Melevenich was getting off of Chorus tonight.

As she made contact with the rendezvous, Denton Doyle died in his blood and jizz.

* * *

Wash was quite happy that the event went off without a hitch. There had been a few drunken fights, but nothing the police couldn't handle.

He showered at the base with the men. He listened to their good natured locker room talk wearing a smile on his face. He decided he would call Belquin. Maybe they could have night cap? Maybe he would take her to a twenty four hour diner and they could just talk over hashbrowns and eggs. These were possibilities he wanted to consider.

"Not a bad day Wash. Not bad at all," said North.

Wash ignored him. The specter was smiling and friendly at the moment. North always started off that way. The water in the stall next to his turned on. York saturated his hair before reaching for the soap.

"So, Price's sister, she's pretty hot, yeah?" said York. North made a sound that he agreed.

"Yeah she is. Wonder what she sees in him," said North.

"Well, we know that choosy little sisters choose Agent North," said York.

North gave York the finger. Even as hallucinations they managed to be loquacious. Wash learned not to talk to them. Even as vivid as they were, talking to them seemed to make them mad and angry. Ignoring them, he only had to listen until they left.

Wash turned off the shower. He dressed and returned to his office as fast as he could. The naked North and York padded down the hall behind him. Their wet feet smacked the floor the entire way.

"Look, North, he's trying to ignore us again," said York.

He was having such a good day. Why did they come now?

Vanessa Kimball sat in his office. She wore a little smile. Her lipstick was freshly applied. He tried to return it. He didn't have the energy to deal with Vanessa and her needs.

"President Kimball," said Wash. "Where are your body guards?" Her smile fell flat. See, there, she was not pleased. Wash couldn't keep up.

"You look really tired Wash," said Vanessa. He kept his eyes on his desk. He noticed that the top three buttons on her blouse were undone. She decided to take her out of her bun and give it a little shake. North and York decided to flank her, to wait for acknowledgement too. He didn't want to look at her, now, especially, because her face was currently flanked by two dicks. He didn't want to think about what that meant for his sanity.

"Yeah, so do you, Vanessa," he said. She smiled and was about to say something when Tucker appeared his door.

"We have a homicide. The police found a victim in an alley on the North side of town," he said. Vanessa looked irritated. "Murders happen," she said. "What is the big deal?" Wash thought any homicide would be a big deal, but…he was sure he was insane so.

"It was Denton Doyle," he said.

That hit Vanessa like a bag of bricks upside her head. Tucker looked all too pleased to do it. He would have to remember to inquire as to why all of the emotional fireworks surrounding this woman when they got home.

"How? When?" she said.

"Well, Wash had the idea to Wash the area near the city square. Donut had the idea for small group of civilian police to patrol the outer area. That's when we found him. Three bullets to the stomach."

Vanessa shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."

"The fact that he was covered in his own sauce might shed some light on why he was out there," Tucker said. Vanessa slumped into her chair. "That bitch is going to call my office demanding to know what we intend to do about her grandson's death. They're going to throw this around like it was an assassination." Vanessa was squeezing her eyes tight. She put two fingers to her temples and began to massage in small circles.

"No, they won't," said Tucker. The report is already filed. It's now documented how he was found. Covered in semen in a dark alley…not good PR," said Tucker. Vanessa perked up. "You're right! Catherine Doyle won't want everyone to know her would be King was a pervert."

"That's what it looks like," said Wash. "We don't know that's what actually happened." Vanessa looked at him with a frown.

"Why couldn't you just let her have that moment of joy, man?" said York.

He wanted York to shut up. York was pissing him off. He wanted to punch him in his floppy dick. Always showing off.

"Well, if that's not what happened, then someone did us a favor. Her little push for restoring the monarchy will lose momentum. These are actually good things. The consultant from ONI will be here soon. They can help as well."

 _ONI?_

"Yeah man, you have to admit this was convenient," said North. It was way too convenient. Vanessa should have been as paranoid as he was.

"It's the convenience that bothers me," said Wash. "You probably shouldn't be heard saying that a homicide was a good thing."

"Well fuck a duck, what do you think? You think everything is a big scheme? What are you going to do about it?" said York.

"Well, Commander Washington, I think you of all people should be able to appreciate the importance of this convenience."

"Remember when he appreciated the Director's 'help'?" said North.

"He really thought that. What an ass clown," said York. Wash ground his teeth.

"Fuck you. You don't know me. You don't know what the hell I appreciate," he roared. A stack of paper erupted in a flourish. Wash's fists punctuated his words. Wash's desk got the worst of it. It wore a dent now. Vanessa jumped out of her seat, but not completely clear of her chair. She stumbled. Tucker moved to catch her.

North and York looked on in silence.

"Be careful of strangers bearing gifts, Vanessa," he whispered. His throat was a little raw. He looked at the mess of his office.

He hated the way Vanessa was looking at him. Tucker looked so fucking sad. He bolted around his desk and out of his office. He ran. He made it to his car and locked the doors. This is why he just went to work and home. People said things and did things that made them show up.

In his rear view, York and North had their naked dead asses in his back seats looking as pissed as he was.


End file.
